UsaMamo Oneshots
by AstroPrincess
Summary: Usagi and Mamoru are secretly in love, but are afraid to admit it. Will they build up the courage to tell each other?
1. Very Last Drop

Mamoru hunched his shoulders and pulled his coat tighter, trying to block out the cold. He hurried down the street, wanting to get home before the rain got worse.

He was just passing the park when instinct alone prompted him to raise his ducked head and look.

Rain dripped down his face and people walked around him as he stood there, immobile, feet rooted to the pavement, eyes fixed on the sight before him.

Usagi Tsukino, spinning in the rain. Her golden hair, darker than usual and glistening from the water, had been pulled over her shoulder, emphasizing the graceful curve of her neck. Her rain coat hung lopsidedly, clinging to her back. Her skirt was long and thick, swaying slightly as she moved. Her familiar Mary Janes were shining with moisture, and her white socks were soaked through. She looked the most beautiful that Mamoru had ever seen her.

He crossed the street and entered the park, making his way to Usagi. He stopped when he was close enough to touch her. Normally, he wouldn't trust himself to get this close and not want to kiss her, but the rain made him brave.

Sensing his presence, Usagi stopped spinning and her eyes blinked open.

Their brilliant, cerulean blue stunned Mamoru. So clear and pure and unsurprised. As if destiny had told her to expect him.

Her unwavering blue gaze nearly overwhelmed him, and as a result, all his reasoning flew out the window. They stood frozen like that until a raindrop fell down Usagi's cheekbone, and Mamoru, unable to help himself, caught it on his fingertip. That one act shattered the spell cast upon them, and before Mamoru could even comprehend what was happening, Usagi had thrown her arms around his neck and brought his lips to hers.

He was shocked still for a moment, then his body caught up, and he held her to him, feeling as though he was trying to hold onto water that was trickling through his cupped hand. But when her lips stayed on his, warm and soft, he relaxed, and felt the very last drop stay in his hand, beautiful and forever.


	2. Studying

Mamoru's weary eyes took in the next chapter he had to study tonight. He had hoped the free coffee Motoki had given him would soothe the stinging in his tired eyes and clear the exhaustion fogging his brain, but to no avail.

Groaning, he propped his chin up with his ink-stained hands and let his eyes drift out the picture window. In a split second, he recognized a very familiar blonde, laughing with her friends, and standing on the pavement bordering the arcade. Seeing her in a moment of happiness, which he so rarely did, stirred up all the feelings he had been trying to ignore.

Usagi was pretty, no doubt about that. Her golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and the school uniform that would look drab on anyone else only accentuated her slender frame. Her curling bangs framed her pale, heart-shaped face, and her blue eyes, ringed with long, thick lashes, well . . . they made Mamoru weak in the knees.

But even more than that, her love of life showed in everything she did. Mamoru called her childish, but really, he admired her spirit. The way she did what she loved, regardless of what anyone thought. That's what had drawn him to her in the first place.

Usagi and her friends entered the arcade, and Mamoru watched as she shook out her shining hair, her cheeks rosy, smiling wide, and her blue eyes twinkling with laughter. She was practically glowing. Sensing his eyes on her, she turned, and for one stunning, glorious moment, her passion and beauty were directed at _him_.

Mamoru gasped, all breath gone from his body. In that moment, he knew. He knew without a doubt what he had been trying to hide from all along. He loved Usagi Tsukino. With every fiber of his being, every breath in his body, with every beat of his heart, he loved her.

When Usagi realized who had been watching her, her smile faded. A scowl replaced it. Back to normal, it seemed.

Mamoru smiled to himself.

Maybe studying could wait.


	3. Just Another Day

"Well, look who it is, the klutzy Odango Atama," Mamoru drawled, picking himself off the sidewalk, readjusting his school bag, and brushing imaginary dirt off his pants.

Usagi huffed with indignation and scrambled to her feet, her retort clawing it's way off her tongue like dragon's fire. "Maybe you should look out, baka. And for the last time, stop calling me that!" She clenched her fists at her sides, her knuckles turning white.

"Sure thing, Odango," Mamoru smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets, the very picture of condescending. That was Usagi's last straw.

"BAKA!" she shrieked, drawing the attention of curious passerby and becoming even more infuriated when Mamoru's smug smile turned to mocking laughter. "You just-you-ugh!" she growled when she couldn't string the words together.

Mamoru chuckled one last time before walking past the frustrated girl. "Better luck next time Odango," he called over his shoulder before striding away. He didn't look back once.

Usagi growled again as she stomped away in the opposite direction. His parting words — _next time_ — echoed in her ears, and she did her best the ignore the way her silly heart was racing. _It's just because he knocked me over_ , she thought. _That's all._


	4. Lazy Days

The sunlight fell through the arcade's windows, dappling the games, countertop, and even it's customers with a shining golden light.

Usagi Tsukino and Mamoru Chiba were co-existing peacefully today, a miracle that Motoki gratefully accepted. All their yelling was starting to drive away his customers.

That afternoon when Usagi had arrived, she had only nodded politely to Mamoru, which he had returned, not looking surprised in the slightest.

Motoki had been shocked.

Maybe it was the prospect of the last golden day of autumn that had the enemies at peace. Maybe they wanted to soak up the sunshine while it lasted. _Whatever it is_ , Motoki thought, surveying the two, sitting side by side. _They look like mirror images of the other._

Mamoru, perched on his stool, had his textbook and notes spread out before him, studying diligently. Cradled in his cupped hands was a cup of coffee that was probably cold by now.

Usagi leaned into the counter, chin propped in her hands as her eyes roved over the pages of her latest manga. Her glass, with only dregs of chocolate milkshake left, sat beside her book. The condensation from the cool liquid had run down the glass and created a wet spot on the countertop.

As Mamoru shuffled his notes and Usagi flipped the page in her manga, their elbows brushed. They both tensed, waiting for the other to say something, disrupt the companionable silence, but after a few seconds devoid of any snarky comments, they relaxed, keeping their eyes firmly fixed on their respective book. Because, to be perfectly honest, Usagi and Mamoru enjoyed the very rare peace that was now between them.

Neither moved their elbow.


	5. More Than Just a Pretty Face

"They're so pretty!" Usagi exclaimed, pressing her small palms against the glass to get a better look at the flowers within.

Mamoru was walking past the florist's shop when he saw Usagi peering through the window. He considered continuing on his way, but he was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease her.

"How like you Odango, to love flowers. I bet you don't even know what it's name is," Mamoru taunted scornfully.

Usagi whirled around in surprise, as she hadn't noticed him approach. "Mam—baka!" she gasped, her heart racing. Then his words soaked into her skin and her cheeks flushed in anger. She stomped her foot, clad in it's usual Mary Jane, and clenched her fists, trying to contain her temper. Because she _could_ let loose and let the baka have it, _or_ she could prove him wrong. And she had a feeling the latter would be much more satisfying.

Mamoru watched in amusement and, to be honest, a little apprehension as Usagi screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. A little of the color on her cheeks receded as she calmed herself. When her blue eyes opened again, he could still see a glint of anger in them, but it was being overpowered by composure, an emotion he'd never seen on Odango before.

"As a matter of fact, these are lotus flowers. They have meaning in the religions of Buddhism and Hinduism and in the ancient Egyptian culture. They come in several different varieties and colors, and the kind this shop sells is rather unusual. They also happen to be my favorite type of flower."

Usagi enjoyed Mamoru's dumbstruck expression, complete with gaping jaw, for a few moments before marching into the store to inquire about the price for a lotus. Her mother also had a soft spot for the flower, and maybe her appreciation of a gift would overwhelm her disappointment in Usagi's last test score.

Mamoru shut his mouth, teeth clicking together, his surprise evaporating like morning dew. He looked through the window and saw Usagi examining a flower, her back to him.

Then the lotuses in the front display caught his attention, and he studied the flowers with a critical eye. They were pretty, he supposed, but not as pretty as his Usagi. _His_. He'd never thought of her as his before, but he found he liked the sound of it.

Mamoru noticed a little white card near the front of the display. _Lotus flower (_ Nelumbo nucifera _)_ it read across the top. And below it was Usagi's spiel. Word for word. Ancient Egyptians and rare varieties and all.

He grinned. His Odango Atama was beautiful _and_ clever.


	6. Light in the Dark

The radio behind the countertop began to crackle and spit static as, outside, the rain grew heavier and the storm clouds darkened with fury.

Motoki cast a worried glance out the window. There weren't many customers left at the arcade this late in the afternoon, but if the weather got as bad as the forecaster said, then —

The lights flickered and went out. Mamoru watched, or rather, listened, as Motoki cursed and ran to check on the arcade's power source and machines. He heard the panicked whispers rising and falling in the room like a wave crashing into the surf. But his ears did not pick out Usagi's voice from among them.

He spun on his stool, his eyes already fixed on Odango, sitting in a booth with her friends. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, her silhouette slowly took shape.

Lightning flashed, making the dark building shine for a brief moment with an eerie light before thunder rumbled. Usagi clenched her jaw, fighting to keep her breathing even as Rei, Makoto, and Ami laughed at a story Mina was telling.

She heard someone approaching their table, and warily guessed, "Baka?"

She'd meant to sound tough, or even bored, but instead her voice was shaky. She closed her mouth so hard her teeth clacked together.

"Odango," Mamoru returned, biting his lip to try to stop his hands from shaking. He wanted to tease her about something, anything, but he just _couldn't_. Lightning flared again, and for an instant, Mamoru could make out Usagi's pale face, her blue eyes wide and . . . scared?

Thunder boomed, closer and louder than the last time. Before Usagi could stop herself, she whimpered. She heard Mamoru's breath catch and with a rustle of movement, he knelt in front of her.

"Are you scared?" he whispered softly, his face close to hers.

Usagi thought that her fear must be making her hallucinate; there was no way Mamoru could be gentle. She shook her head, nostrils flaring. Mamoru probably couldn't see her, but she didn't trust her mouth.

"I have a secret," he continued, leaning in so close that Usagi could feel his warm, sweet breath on her ear. "I'm scared too."

Mamoru couldn't believe he had just admitted that. What was he, stupid? But something about the darkness made him brave, and he knew she was scared, as foreign as the concept seemed. The Odango he argued with everyday was bold and fierce.

Usagi stiffened. Mamoru was scared of the storm? Like she was? As much as she liked yelling at the arrogant, infuriating baka, she also liked this side of him, the brave and gentle Mamoru.

Mamoru, driven out of pure instinct, wrapped his arms around Usagi's waist and put his head in her lap. He heard Usagi sigh in relief, finally starting to relax, and hesitantly stroke his hair. The third and final time the thunder cracked, neither so much as gasped, having finally found their safe place — each other.


	7. A Mysterious Argument

Makoto and Usagi, laden with bulging shopping bags, crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into the pedestrians passing them.

Then they caught sight of Mamoru. The "baka," as Usagi referred to him, was wearing his favorite green jacket and carrying a couple of paper bags.

Usagi and Mako's conversation instantly died. Mako braced herself for the yelling match she was sure would ensue and the strength she would need to drag Usagi away.

But when Mamoru passed, he said only, "Two weeks."

To this, Usagi narrowed her eyes and returned, "A bag of carrots."

Mamoru rolled his eyes and continued on his way.

Mako was flabbergasted.

"What was that?" she nearly shrieked, as soon as she'd regained use of her voice.

"Oh," Usagi murmured, suddenly unable to hold eye contact. A blush rose to her cheeks as she said, "Nothing."

"If it's nothing, why are you blushing?" Makoto asked, getting over her shock and proceeding straight to mischief and amusement.

The color in her friend's cheeks only darkened, but Usagi rolled her eyes, her familiar attitude coming back in full strength. She started muttering under her breath, and though most of what she said was too soft to hear, Mako still caught the words "two weeks," "Makoto," and "Mamoru."

Mako smiled.


	8. Secret Affections

Mamoru was sitting on his usual stool in the arcade, studying as he did everyday. Time dragged, making him wonder what he was doing with his life.

Then Usagi and her friends walked in, laughing, always laughing. Mamoru instantly perked up, flicking his dark hair out of his face. However, he did not turn around, and he did not spar with Odango, pretending to be absorbed in his textbook.

He didn't have the energy to argue with anyone today, but especially not _her_ , who had a knack for making his heart race and his breathing labored. But neither could he read, because Odango — Usagi — gave his life meaning. As pathetic as it was,she  
/was the reason he got up in the morning, the reason he walked to school instead of riding the bus, the reason he spent so much time in the arcade. And when the meaning in his life walked by, he couldn't study. He couldn't focus on anything, anyone,but  
/her.

 _The purpose of my life being to argue with a stubborn teenage girl_ , he thought, rolling his blue eyes at himself. _And to love her too . . ._ But he stopped that thought from going any further.

Much to his disappointment, Usagi and her friends chose to sit in a booth rather than at the counter next to him. He didn't realize he was half listening to their conversation until he heard Mina whisper, " _Tuxedo Mask_ ," and giggle. Then Usagi's  
/familiar voice chimed in, and Mamoru started _fully_ eavesdropping.

"Yeah," she murmured in response, her voice smooth like honey. It sounded as though she were a million miles away, lost in her thoughts.

"He's pretty cute, even with the mask on," Mina continued, her voice bubbling with restrained laughter. "And that tuxedo . . . whew!" She was silent for a moment, and Mamoru pictured her fanning herself with mock delicacy. Her friends laughed at her theatrics,but  
/he didn't hear Usagi join them.

"Don't you agree, Usagi?" Rei asked mischievously. Mamoru waited for her enthusiastic response; even he knew about her crush on Tuxedo Mask. The thought made his heart flutter, even as he wondered what would happen if she found out who he _really_ was.

"I guess so," Usagi replied uninterestedly, not enthusiastic in the least. Mamoru felt his stomach sink. He knew it was only a matter of time till her crush passed, but he liked thinking that she reciprocated his feelings . . . well, somewhat.

/

Usagi tuned out her friends' dull conversation. Once the thought of Tuxedo Mask would make her heart race . . . but that was before. Now, staring at Mamoru's back, his head bent over his book, she wished he would look up. Look at her. But when she  
/lefther daydreams of mysterious, masked men behind, she had to face reality. And the stark, unforgiving truth was that she was in love with a boy who would never, ever, love her back.


	9. For A Good Cause

"Are we really doing this?" Mamoru groaned, and Motoki elbowed him in the side good naturedly.

"Come on, it'll be fun," he exclaimed. To this, Mamoru rolled his eyes, but didn't comment.

"And it's for charity," Makoto reminded him.

"Alright, alright," Mamoru gave in. Everyone in the group smiled at his agreement, except for Usagi. She rolled her eyes and thought, _Geez, what a baka_.

The charity volunteers finally got to their party, did a quick head count — Mamoru, Motoki, Usagi, Makoto, Minako, and Rei; Ami was sitting on the sidelines nursing her twisted ankle — and passed out three strings. They sat on the grass to next to a sign that read "Three-Legged Race" to pair up and tie their ankles together.

In desperation, Mamoru looked for a partner, but Motoki and Makoto had already paired up, and Minako was fussing with the string tying her ankle to Rei's. And that meant . . .

"Hello, baka," Usagi muttered, a length of string dangling from her fist.

Mamoru gulped in apprehension but tried for nonchalance as he mocked, "Hello, Odango."

Usagi's cheeks flushed, but she didn't say anything as she scooted over and started tying the string around their ankles in sharp, jerky movements.

Mamoru's shin tingled in each spot where Usagi accidentally touched him, which she was trying very hard not to do. As a result, she finished long after their friends, who watched with amusement as they struggled to stand up without brushing against the other.

Rei watched their lack of progress and snickered. "I wonder what will happen when they actually start running," she said, grinning wickedly.

At this, Minako snorted, but held back her laughter as, red-faced and panting, Usagi and Mamoru got up.

"Do we _really_ have to do this?" Usagi whined in a last ditch effort to escape.

"Come on Usagi." This time it was Mina's turn to team up on them. "It's for a good cause!"

"Fine," Usagi muttered, and slouched. Then her hand brushed Mamoru's, and they both tensed. Everyone else laughed.

At long last, every team lined up at the starting line, about a dozen in number. Usagi was muttering under her breath as a charity volunteer shouted, "Ready, set, GO!"

Usagi gasped in surprise as Mamoru's foot moved forward, tugging her along. She collapsed onto him, holding onto his arm to keep from falling.

Mamoru stopped breathing at her touch and froze in place. Unfortunately, even with her death grip on his arm, Usagi's momentum kept carrying her forward, pulling Mamoru down with her. She landed on her back, the force of her fall knocking the wind from her lungs. As Mamoru fell, he tried to roll away from her, but because of the string, ended up pinning her to the ground.

Usagi, having regained use of her lungs, was breathing as shallowly as she could. Mamoru's piercing blue gaze made her feel like a butterfly trapped in a jar. Scared and bewildered.

The enemies froze, breathing as shallowly as possible and gaze locked upon the other.

Off in the distance, they heard a whistle chirp.

"That would be —" Usagi began, trailing off.

"The end of —" Mamoru murmured, then gulped.

"The race," they finished together, identical blushes flourishing across their cheeks. The idea of their friends finding them in such an undignified position motivated them to stand up, an awkward and difficult process.

Finally, Mamoru pulled Usagi to her feet, his grip on her hands warm and strong. He held on a moment longer than necessary, then realized what he was doing and hastily pulled away, tearing his gaze from Usagi's beautiful face. Though he kept his eyes on a tussock of grass next to his foot, he could feel her gaze on him. Instinctively, he looked up, meeting her eyes. Her already pink cheeks flushed darker, but she offered him a shaky, uncertain smile.

What was left of his reason fled him in that moment, and pulling her small body to his, he kissed her, unable to keep denying himself her touch. He loved her. He needed her.

Usagi responded passionately, throwing her arms around his neck, never wanting to leave him.

* * *

Mina and Rei turned away from Motoki and Makoto, who were still celebrating their second place victory. At the sight before, or rather, behind them, Rei gagged, and Mina bounced in excitement.

"I told you Rei! Am I the guardian of love or what?" she exclaimed, a smile splitting her face.

"Yeah, yeah," Rei grumbled, kneeling to untie their ankles and avoid looking at Usagi and Mamoru. "I owe you ten bucks. Happy?"

"Oh, yes," Mina returned, still grinning wide. "But I think they're happier."


	10. Fear Does Not Define Me

Mamoru, looking up from his newspaper, watched the whole scene play out in slow motion. Motoki placing a chocolate milkshake on the counter in anticipation of Usagi's arrival. The klutz herself swinging herself onto a stool, heavy schoolbag swinging wide. The awful _crack_ as the glass full of thick, syrupy liquid hit the counter, exploding into a million shining pieces.

Mamoru hurriedly moved his belongings, not wanting them to get stained by the spreading chocolate. Meanwhile, Usagi was apologizing profusely as Motoki calmly and carefully began picking up the shards of glass.

"It's okay, Usagi, really," he assured her, smiling genuinely, despite the fact that she had just made a mess he now had to clean up. Grumbling under his breath, Mamoru began helping his best friend. He was just picking up a particularly big piece, when, still slick with Usagi's milkshake, it slipped in his grasp and a fiery-hot pain shot up his hand. He cursed, causing Usagi and Motoki to look up, concern in their eyes, as the glass fell back to the countertop, now wet with blood. Mamoru unfurled his fist, displaying a gash across the pad of his thumb, and Usagi's blue eyes went wide at the sight of the gushing blood.

His calm demeanor dissipating, Motoki sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as he crouched down, searching for a first aid kit. Finding it, he extracted a wad of gauze, which he pressed to Mamoru's injury, making him hiss in pain.

"Usagi, can you hold this in place?" Motoki asked hectically, already moving his fingers to grab rags, which he used to hurriedly sop up some up the mess. Then Usagi filled Mamoru's range of vision, blue eyes worried and scared. Chewing on her lip, she took Mamoru's hand in both of her warm ones, holding the reddening gauze in place. If his hand wasn't throbbing, he'd be appreciating her touch much more.

Then Motoki's slightly breathless voice broke into his thoughts, scattering them like startled birds. "I have someone covering me, so I can take you to the hospital."

His honey eyes flickered between Usagi and Mamoru, and some distant part of his brain wondered when Usagi had decided to come. And besides . . .

"I'm not going to the hospital," he said firmly, only a hint of shakiness in his voice, which was understandable, he thought.

"Mamoru, have you seen your hand? Your thumb was sliced open," Usagi piped up, her voice soft. It took him a moment to recognize it, it was so gentle.

Motoki dragged them to his car without further ado, his stained apron still hanging lopsidedly from his neck. The ride to the hospital was a blur of hazy images in his pain-filled mind; Usagi's worried face when she discovered the blood-soaked gauze; dark clouds blocking out the sun; the shining white walls of the sleek hospital, where, he recalled, Ami's mother worked.

Inside the hospital, they were shuffled by a nurse through stark, dimly-lit, and harshly scented hallways. The walls seemed to shrink and press down on him as bad memories swam to the front of his mind. Waking up in an unfamiliar place, with no memories to explain how he'd gotten there. Being informed of a tragic accident, and being sent to a bleak orphanage.

Faintly, he registered sitting in a little room, Usagi pressing a fresh bundle of gauze to his cut, and Motoki following the nurse out the door.

The ghosts of his past were still haunting him, swimming in his vision, echoing in his ears, lingering in his nostrils. His breathing was shaky, and he screwed his eyes shut, rocking a little, trying to dislodge the fear that trickled like ice water through his veins. He tried to make fists of his hands before realizing Usagi still held his right one.

Her fingers curled tighter around his, refusing to let go. "Shh," she whispered, and he could feel her warm breath on his face. "It's okay."

"No," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?" she persisted gently. He opened his eyes slowly, warily, taking in the beautiful, if slightly blurry, planes of her face.

"When I was six," he started, not fully believing he was telling her. It'd been after years of friendship he'd considered telling Motoki. He wasn't even friends with this girl, and he was telling her about his past? But this was Usagi, he reminded himself. It felt right. "I was in a car accident. My parents died, and I woke up in a room like this, unable to remember anything."

"Oh, Mamoru," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. Tears for _him._ "I'm so sorry."

She threw her arms around his neck, tucking her face into the hollow beneath his chin. As he felt her tears fall down his skin, as she let her emotions get the better of her, he regained control over his. In his lowest moment, she was there to help him back up, and willing to sacrifice herself in the process.

Usagi's warmth soaked through his skin, easing the throbbing of his hand and making heart swell. And he knew without a doubt that if Usagi ever fell, he would be there, no matter what the cost, to help her get up again.

Suddenly she pulled away, leaving him cold with her absence, and swiped at her eyes roughly.

"I'm sorry," she muttered gruffly. Mamoru couldn't make out all the emotions hidden in her voice — though, honestly, he could barely sort out his own at times.

The lights flickered, and the examining table sent a menacing shadow sprawling across a pristine, white wall. Oh, he hated it here. It wasn't just the smell and appearance — it was about the feeling it gave him, fear and foreboding and dread all mixed together. All of his instincts telling him to run for it . . . while he still could.

He exhaled heavily out of his nose, trying to keep his fear and longing at bay. But he already knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't rein in his emotions forever.

With a moan, Mamoru reached for Usagi, pulling the surprised girl onto his lap and to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the smooth, creamy skin of her neck. As he inhaled her sweet perfume, he felt her hesitantly place her arms around his middle, and rest her head against his.

They sat like that for what felt like forever; Mamoru hiding from his fear, and Usagi protecting him from it. Thanks to her, it didn't take long for him to calm down, but he wasn't ready to let go quite yet. He absorbed every detail he noticed, however small. The warmth of her skin. The flutter of her pulse beneath his cheek. The sweet fragrance he'd now decided was shampoo. The whisper of her hair across her shirt.

And so much more.

 _I love this girl,_ he thought, losing himself in the smell of her skin, the warmth of her body, the beat of her heart.

And instead of causing him more anxiety, as he'd predicted it would, his love made him feel completely whole for the first time in his life.


	11. Not All Roses Last Forever

Tuxedo Mask watched, hidden in the branches of a tree, as the sailor guardians battled a youma. With a cry, Sailor Mercury shot a spray of bubbles spiraling into it's face, causing it to shriek in frustration. The monster, with a wild waving of it's clawed  
/hands, sent a stream of viscous, black muck at Sailor Moon.

Tuxedo Mask's breath caught, but at the last moment, she leapt gracefully out of the acid's path.

She turned to Sailor Mars, planted her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth — probably, he assumed, rolling his eyes, to tell her off for whatever snide comment he was sure she'd made earlier.

Just as he was started to relax, the youma's heavy, scaled, and spiked tail whipped through the air toward Sailor Moon. Still distracted by her argument with Mars, she didn't notice the tail coming at her. With a sickening crack, her slender form, lit  
/by moonlight, flew through the air.

Tuxedo Mask's heart lurched in his chest, and without pausing to think about the consequences of his actions, or even what his actions were, he leapt from the tree, reaching for his sailor.

He grabbed her, tucking her body into his chest, then curling his body up as tightly as he could.

They landed with a thud, an impact sure to leave a bruise on his shoulder. An ugly, throbbing bruise. But really, they were quite lucky, because, through Tuxedo Mask's quick, if rather impulsive, thinking, he was able to use their momentum to roll toa  
stop.

He gingerly unfurled his sore body, cradling Sailor Moon in his arms. Somewhere along his frantic leap, he had lost his top hat, and now his dark hair was falling over his forehead. But as Sailor Moon's blue eyes blinked open, he found he didn't care.  
/It didn't matter, nothing mattered, except her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice both soft and worried.

She blinked twice, slowly like a cat, burning the image of her thick, long eyelashes into his retinas. Then a smile curved her pink, pink lips, and his anxiety eased a bit.

"Yes," she murmured in that soft voice that she didn't use with anyone else. Just him.

He stood up, holding her as carefully as he would hold blown glass.

But Sailor Moon's cheeks were rosy from exercise, and she stood on her own, not leaning into him. "Thanks," she whispered with another, smaller smile. She pecked him on the cheek, her lips brushing against his skin as delicately as a butterfly, and when  
/his grip loosened, she pulled from his embrace, spun, and dashed backto the fight, her golden hair streaming behind her.

He watched with weary eyes as she yelled her familiar war cry and let her tiara fly. Her aim was true, striking the youma in the chest and sending it back to the Dark Kingdom.

The other sailor guardians gathered around her, hugging and laughing and cheering in their post-battle euphoria.

Tuxedo Mask, scooping up his discarded hat, slunk off to the shadowy silhouette of the tree he'd perched in earlier. He couldn't help but glance back, one last time.

She was not looking for him.

 _Why is it,_ he asked her silently, sadly, _that you're always leaving me behind?_


	12. What is Sweeter Than Chocolate?

_Chocolate. Such a treat. Truly a great wonder._

 _For what else drives away sadness, brightens a day, and connects people of different tongues?_

 _What else can be as sweet as a rose, as bitter as disappointment, and as rich as the most luxurious silk, all at once?_

 _What other treat makes a mouth water in anticipation, then lasts not nearly long enough?_

 _What else blends so delightfully with other flavors, and yet tastes so divine on it's own?_

 _What is more tempting?_

 _What else has all these attributes and more?_

 _What, I ask, is sweeter than chocolate?_

Usagi looked up from the poem she was studying as schoolwork, her gaze falling on her half-finished chocolate milkshake. Suddenly, it didn't seem as appealing as it normally did. Though when starting the poem, her mouth hadwatered, her reaction  
changed as she read. Now, the author's last words ringing in her ears, she felt uneasy. The poem did not sit right with her.

She cast her gaze around the arcade, trying to distract herself from her weird mood. Her eyes stopped on Mamoru, tucked into a booth, textbooks and papers spread out before him, a crease marking his brow as he read.

Usagi absorbed the sight of him — messy dark hair hanging over his forehead, blue eyes focused, fingers marking multiple spots in his notes, wearing that green jacket she despised. But what really drew her attention were her lips. Pink and soft. He was  
pulling on them with his teeth absent-mindedly, a sight that was making her pulse hammer with desire, in a way it never had before.

 _What is sweeter than chocolate?_

The words ran through her mind, spurred on by the sight of Mamoru, and now Usagi knew the answer.

A kiss.


	13. Flirting

Mamoru had seen it all.

The batting of those thick, sooty lashes.

The curling of those golden locks around a slender finger.

The stunning smile with full, pink lips, and usually accompanied by the dazzling laugh that reminded him of wind chimes.

All of it directed at Motoki. Sometimes Mamoru wondered why he considered him his best friend. A small part of Mamoru — the logical part — knew that Motoki had no real feelings for Usagi. But the larger, more overwhelming part, hated him for every smile, every laugh, every comment he encouraged her with.

What he wouldn't give for her to look at him like that.

"Gah," he growled when Usagi tossed her head back in laughter, taunting Mamoru with the image of her creamy throat. He slid down from his stool and stalked out of the arcade.

"What's his problem?" Usagi asked Motoki, a worried frown creasing her brow as she watched him stride down the street, his broad shoulders hunched nearly to his ears.

When she turned back to Motoki, she was surprised by the sadness in his eyes. He spoke, and his voice was burdened with a heavy finality that would haunt Usagi's dreams for many nights to come.

"A broken heart."


	14. Sweet Dreams

Usagi, seated beside Mamoru, was practically mute.

She'd been quiet the moment she'd walked through the arcade's door. Yes, walked — she hadn't skipped or bounced or performed any of her other equivalents of walking. She spoke only one word — "Thanks" — to Motoki when he'd handed her a chocolate milkshake,  
and that was it.

Mamoru, his newspaper blocking his peripheral vision and therefore, unable to see Usagi, cleared his throat and spoke into the void of silence between them.

"Wow, Odango, you're quiet today. I wish I could say I was disappointed, but that would be a lie."

Mamoru braced himself for the screeching he was sure would commence, undoubtedly in his ear. But when it didn't come, he cautiously lowered his newspaper, and his jaw dropped when he realized the source of Usagi's newfound ability to hold her tongue.

Her feet were dangling limply from her stool, not hooked behind it's legs or drumming out a rhythm. Her arms were folded across the countertop, her head resting upon them, her face turned to him. Her breathing was slow and steady.

She was asleep.

"Odango?" Mamoru whispered, half wanting to wake her. But she didn't stir, and despite himself, relief flooded him.

In sleep, her beautiful face was smooth and serene. Her dark lashes fluttered against her slightly flushed cheeks, and her lips were slack, for once not frowning or yelling. They were round and pink, and so soft looking . . .

Even sleeping, she was impossible to look away from.

Then barely, just barely, Usagi started to slip. On the stool with no back and no arm rests to catch her. Not awake to catch herself.

Without thinking, Mamoru threw his arms around her waist, anchoring her to him. Fortunately, she stopped falling. And whether good or bad, was now slumped against his side. His heart started pounding, and not from adrenalin. He stiffened, becoming hyperaware  
of the body curling against his. The way he could feel her belly expanding and contracting under his arm as she inhaled and exhaled. The way her delicious scent tickled his nostrils. The way her face was tucked into his chest, as if it belonged there.  
Perhaps it did.

As minutes passed and Usagi still didn't wake, Mamoru relaxed, deciding to enjoy the peace while it lasted. He assured himself that he was _only_ holding her because he didn't want her to fall again. What other reason could there be?

* * *

noshade=""

Usagi was enjoying herself, to say the least. Of course she wasn't asleep. How could she have fallen asleep when Mamoru was right there, close enough to touch?

Unable to stop a tiny, tiny smile fromspringing to her lips, she burrowed farther into Mamoru's warmth. She had been planning this for days. However much Rei might say her head was full of fluff, Usagi liked to think she was downright diabolical  
when it counted. And what counted more than Mamoru?

All else aside, the one thing she was sure of was that she didn't want to ever, ever wake up.


	15. Thanks

Usagi heaved a dramatic sigh as she flopped onto the stool beside Mamoru, spinning on the red fabric to face him.

"Whatcha studying today, baka?" she asked in a pretend weary tone. Inwardly though, she was bubbling with nerves and excitement at being so close to him.

An annoyed Mamoru looked up from his notes, a pair of black-framed glasses sliding down his nose. "Wouldn't you like to know Odango?" he huffed.

"Come on, please?" she wheedled. She drummed her toes on the stool's foot rest and clasped her hands in her lap, humming with energy.

This time it was Mamoru's turn to sigh, but all things considered, he gave in rather quickly. Perhaps he couldn't focus with her around either . . . no, that was just wistful thinking.

"Okay, okay. It's notes for my foreign culture class. Since it's November, we're studying Thanksgiving."

"That's an American holiday, right?" Usagi asked, crinkling her nose as she thought.

"Uh-huh," Mamoru mumbled, shuffling his notes and shoving his glasses up his nose. Usagi watched, transfixed, as they promptly slid downwards again. Her fingers itched to help him.

Jolting back to her senses, Usagi abruptly straightened her spine and folded her hands behind herback. Mamoru turned back to her, attention caught by her flurry of movement, and frowned, puzzled. Usagi blushed.

With a slight shake of his head, as if clearing away excess thoughts, he continued.

"Thanksgiving has a very long history in the US, but today it is all about gratefulness."

"And food," Usagi interjected, remembering one of Makoto's spiels about the holiday.

Mamoru rolled his eyes, sarcasm returning to him. Meaning that their somewhat civil conversation was at an end. Usagi felt panic shooting through her — she wasn't ready to go back to arguing quite yet.

"What are you grateful for this year, Mamoru-san?" she said hurriedly, the honorific an unfamiliar taste on her tongue.

Mamoru blinked in surprise, caught off guard by her question. And probably her manners too. His glasses slipped, ever so lower, and as he showed no intention of replying anytime soon, Usagi distracted herself by blurting — "I'm grateful for my family  
/and friends. And for Motoki's milkshakes and my manga and —" she caught herself before she could say _you_ "— Tuxedo Mask."

Mamoru inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, a hint of pink in his cheeks. "Um, I guess . . . I'm grateful for Motoki's friendship. And to be studying at such a good college. And . . . kind of . . . well . . . you," he stammered, color flooding his cheeks  
/and ears.

Usagi, all restraint ripped to shreds by this declaration, was unable to help herself from pushing his glasses up the bridge of his handsome, if rather pink, nose. Mamoru, looking up from his shoes, locked eyes with her. Very blue eyes.

Now it was Usagi's turn to feel a blush bloom across her face. "I'm grateful for you too," she murmured, barely able to hold eye contact.

But it was so very worth it to see the smile lighting up Mamoru's face.


	16. With All Honesty

"You know, I can't even be mad at you today," Usagi chirped, clambering to her feet.

Mamoru rolled his eyes as he dusted grit off his palms. Ever since he'd met Odango, he'd found that the sidewalks in Jûban were in terrible repair. Or maybe they just were in bad shape because he and Usagi kept falling onto them. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

"Why, is the —" he started sarcastically, but Usagi talked right over him.

"I got a new bottle of perfume, and it smells beautiful! I got it at a really good price too," she added, beaming.

Mamoru scoffed. "A scent can't be beautiful."

"It can too!" Usagi protested, her attitude coming back in full force as she place her hands on her hips. Then she turned her head, exposing the delicate, graceful curve of her neck. "See for yourself."

Mamoru refrained from teasing her about her word choice in that last sentence, and considered her offer. Could he pass up an opportunity to spend a few more minutes close to her? Or the opportunity to prove her wrong?

Mind made up, he heaved a sigh, as if bored, though inwardly, he was bubbling with excitement. He bent closer, his nose brushing past her ear, and shivered.

Hyperaware of the minute distance between his face and the creamy skin of Usagi's neck, Mamoru inhaled deeply.

The scent of her skin was sweet and bright, but Mamoru couldn't pick out any individual scents; his brain was too busy thinking about how close her face was to his. Oh, he'd never wanted something as much as he wanted to kiss her right now. Never.

"Usagi," Mamoru breathed, voice low. She slowly turned her head, making eye contact with him. She was so close he could see her eyelashes flutter.

"What," she murmured shakily, "did you think of my perfume?"

Mamoru was unable to tear his gaze away from her perfect face, watching as she swallowed nervously.

"It was beautiful," he whispered, and then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back, and Mamoru's world imploded and he didn't notice, didn't care, _she_ was his whole world, she was beautiful and perfect and his, and he wouldn't want anything ever again as long as he had her.

They drew apart, shaking. Usagi's arms were wrapped around his neck, her fingers threaded through his hair, and when she didn't pull away, Mamoru tightened his grip on her waist.

"I have to confess something," Usagi mumbled, unable to look him in the eye. "I didn't buy new perfume at all. It was just a lie to catch your attention."

Mamoru smiled. "I lied to you too," he told her. "When I said the perfume was beautiful. I really meant to say that you were beautiful."

Usagi looked up at him then and smiled, a stunning, radiant smile.

And Mamoru found he'd told _himself_ a lie. He wasn't satisfied with his one kiss. He wanted a second one even more.

But Usagi had already beaten him to it.


	17. Snow Day

Mamoru found Usagi seated by the arcade's picture window.

"Odango?" he asked when she hadn't turned at the sound of his footsteps.

"Yeah?" she breathed, still not looking at him.

Mamoru frowned, confused she hadn't yelled at him for using the dreaded nickname. "What are you doing?"

"Watching the snow fall," she murmured dreamily. "It's so beautiful."

So Mamoru looked. He saw the street and stores and pedestrians, just like he did everyday. But then he looked closer, at the small white flakes, falling from a cloudy sky. It wasn't sticking to the pavement, but . . . there was something hopeful about it, like a promise.

"It's kind of magical, isn't it?" Usagi said softly, echoing his thoughts. Mamoru returned his gaze to her. She had yet to turn away from the sight before her, but maybe if she had looked up at him, he'd have the courage to voice the thought running through his mind.

 _Even the first snowfall isn't as magical as you._


	18. Fight Till the End

Usagi, enjoying her daily chocolate milkshake, courtesy of Motoki, was in an especially good mood that day. She had not been late to school, the test she'd been dreading had been postponed, and Mamoru-baka was too tired to insult her.

Motoki's radio was on, and Usagi jumped in recognition as her favorite song began. She initially refrained from singing, but the chorus was her favorite part, and besides, it wasn't like the arcade was busy at this time of day.

 _"_ _I don't wanna fall in love, no no._

 _Love cuts just like a knife._

 _You make the knife feel good, baby._

 _I'll fight you to the end."_

Beaming in delight, Usagi listened as Jane Child continued to the next verse. Feeling Mamoru's eyes on her, she turned, telling herself the color in her cheeks was from indignation. Because he was annoying and immature, and that was all.

"Is there a problem, baka?" she asked him haughtily. Usagi thought she could see shock in his eyes despite his disinterested expression.

"No, I was just surprised that your singing wasn't half bad. I suppose it makes up for your klutzy behavior."

"You're just jealous," Usagi sniffed disdainfully.

Mamoru grinned wickedly. When the chorus came around again, he sang along, his deep, full voice harmonizing beautifully with the singer's. He stumbled once or twice over the lyrics, but he did a good job, overall. Not that Usagi would ever admit that to him.

The song came to a close, and Mamoru gave her a smug smirk. "You are not nearly as talented as you'd like to think, baka," Usagi said, rolling her eyes and turning back to her milkshake.

She heard Mamoru snort, but he didn't reply.

Just as Usagi had finally relaxed, he spoke quietly. As if unsure of himself. "You like that song?"

Focused firmly on her milkshake, she shrugged, hoping Mamoru would leave her alone.

But nope.

"Do you not want to fall in love?" he asked hesitantly.

Her stomach twisting, Usagi pushed her milkshake away. Just like that, Mamoru had turned a good day into a bad one.

As she stalked out of the arcade, she threw her response over her shoulder.

"It's far too late for that, baka."

* * *

 **A/N: The song Usagi sings is called "Don't Wanna Fall In Love" by Jane Child. The lyrics belong to her, and I just borrowed them for this fanfic. It's one of my favorite songs, and I highly recommend it!  
**


	19. Closer Than You Think

The rain fell from a dark, cloudy sky. The drops were large and cold and many in number. The weather was not going to relent anytime soon, and Usagi liked it that way.

She stood there, alone on the deserted street. Alone but for the rain. Her hair clung to her neck with it's heavy wetness, and she could feel droplets weighing down her eyelashes. She was wearing a raincoat, but it had ceased being effective a long time ago.

That was fine. Usagi didn't care. She'd had a terrible day, and instead of the rain dampening her spirits even further, it had given her a twisted feeling of satisfaction. The weather was her mood brought to life. That is, if rain could be considered alive.

What did she care whether rain was alive or not! If she decided it was, then it was. There was no one else here to argue with her about it anyway. And if there was . . . if there was . . .

Usagi heard footsteps approaching her. Her nostrils flared as she spun to face the interloper. If someone thought they could take advantage of her, a teenage girl alone on the street, then they were sorely mistaken. _He_ didn't think she was anymore than an idiotic klutz, but Usagi was a kickass sailor guardian, and she was in no mood to play nice.

When she saw it was only _him_ , she rolled her eyes and returned to her original position, looking up into the sky.

Usagi felt one wall go down and another go up. _He_ would not physically harm her, but he did dangerous things to her heart.

She could feel his eyes take her in. Assess her. _There's nothing to see here, baka,_ she thought irritably. _Get on with your day._

But he did not walk past. He did not speak. He just stood beside her, looking up at the sky and letting the raindrops run down his face. Usagi knew this because she looked at him warily and saw that his eyes were closed, his face tilted up towards the clouds.

She looked away before he felt her gaze on him, and closed her eyes, wrapping herself in a dark, safe cocoon of peace. The first she'd felt all day.

Mamoru seemed to sense the moment when her own water droplets ran down her cheeks. He spoke not a word, but took her cold hand in his big, warm one. His touch soothed the hurt inside her, and she felt absolute, sweet relief.

Made brave by the rain and the spell it had cast upon them both, Usagi twined her fingers through his.


	20. Disappearing Act

"Here you go, Usagi," Motoki said cheerfully, setting her chocolate milkshake on the counter. The arcade was busy today, and he was too preoccupied to notice that he'd placed the glass beyond her reach. Usagi wasn't about to complain to Motoki, and there was absolutely no way she'd ask the ever-infuriating baka to pass it to her, so that meant . . .

Usagi sighed, resigned, and beside her, Mina giggled, throughly enjoying her friend's discomfort. Tamping down her nerves, Usagi rose from her stool, balancing precariously on it's crossbar, and planted one hand on the counter, leaning across Mamoru to reach her delicious prize.

Mamoru looked up, confused and disoriented, his reading interrupted by Usagi's acrobatics.

"Don't mind me baka," Usagi said with poisonous sweetness, so close to wrapping her fingers around her glass.

Then she felt two small, treacherous hands pushing on the small of her back, and she tumbled into the baka's lap.

She hit her elbow on the counter as she fell, and her first response was a shrieked "MINA!" Then she realized — _she was on Mamoru's lap._

Usagi could feel the heat rising off him like asphalt in the summer. One of his arms was brushing her back; the other, her cheek.

She blushed, tingles shooting down her spine, making her want to shiver, despite Mamoru's warmth. Burning with embarrassment — and with some other, deep-rooted emotion she didn't want to name — Usagi pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to touch Mamoru as little as possible.

Once she was sitting, having tried to steady her racing pulse and failed miserably, she tried to meet his gaze. She caught a glimpse of sapphire blue eyes and very pink cheeks before she had to look away.

"Hi," she whispered, all cockiness gone, desperate to break the awkward silence between them.

"Hi," he responded, voice husky. "Um . . . "

"I'll just get down now," Usagi mumbled, but neither of them moved.

Usagi watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Time seemed to pass irrationally, leaping toward the moment he put his hands on her waist, and she gasped, feeling her head swim.

If Usagi had thought he was warm before, now it seemed like the heat of his hands would burn through the thin fabric of her shirt. Pulse galloping and breath sawing, Usagi moved to back away, until Mina's cackle stopped her short. "Sorry Usagi," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "but someone took your seat. Well, mine actually, and then I took yours."

Usagi shot a glare at her friend only to find that Mina's blue eyes danced with mischief and delight.

"No, I can just leave," Mamoru rumbled, his voice deeper than normal, raw and rough like a scratchy wool blanket, wrapping Usagi in it's folds and making the temperature rise to an almost unbearable level. "I've finished my coffee anyway." He cleared his throat gruffly, and Usagi imagined she could feel the vibration in her own body.

Scooting the stool back with a harsh squeal, Mamoru lifted Usagi off his lap and set her on the ground. Her knees were so wobbly she had to lean on the counter for support. For one brief, heart-stopping second, his knees grazed the skin of her stomach, and then he stood, dwarfing her.

With no more than a nod to Motoki and an instinctual moment of eye contact with Usagi — which was all it took to make her cheeks warm and her stomach erupt and her heart pound — Mamoru turned and exited the arcade, walking a little faster than he normally did.

After watching him turn the corner, Usagi shakily clambered onto Mamoru's vacated stool. The plastic was still warm from his body and the air was still fragrant with his scent, coffee, and something sweet, like flowers, and something else that was cool and sharp, like the sky after a rainfall, and it was almost as if he hadn't left.

So Usagi sat for a moment and breathed it all in, waiting for her heartbeat to slow down.

A snicker met her ears, and Usagi turned to face her devious friend, who was sitting on the stool Usagi had occupied not five minutes ago. True to her word, Mina's previous seat had been taken by a young boy, but Usagi had no doubt that her friend had made sure it happened this way.

"Mina, I know you planned this," Usagi growled.

"Who, me?" Mina asked innocently, a smile lighting up her beautiful face.

Usagi scowled.

"Okay, how's this? You can yell at me all you want . . . as long as you tell me you didn't enjoy sitting in Mamoru's lap."

Usagi's mouth fell open in shock. She wanted to deny Mina the pleasure of being right, but her throat closed stubbornly, refusing to let any lies out.

Mina grinned, smug. "That's what I thought."


	21. A Day Off

Motoki coughed again, hacking into his elbow. Mamoru raised a concerned eyebrow, but before he could speak, Usagi beat him to it.

"Are you okay, Motoki?" she asked, worry evident in her tone.

"Oh," Motoki said, clearing his throat. "Yes. Thank you for asking." But his cheeks were flushed with fever, and he had heavy, violet circles under his eyes.

Mamoru didn't buy it. Instinctively, he turned to Usagi, a skeptical look on his face, just to find that her expression mirrored his.

A tingle went down his spine as he realized Usagi was looking at him. Not as an enemy. Not with anger. As an ally, looking for confirmation. Heart skipping a beat, he forgot about Motoki for a moment.

Then Usagi rolled her eyes at him as though saying, _Can you believe this guy?_ and turned back to him. Heaving a sigh, Mamoru shifted on his stool as Usagi said, "I'm not so sure."

"I agree," Mamoru spoke up. "Should you really be working? Serving food?"

Motoki gave him a look of great vexation. "I've been very careful today. I promise. Besides, my shift ends in half an hour. I'll go home then."

Mamoru was still not convinced, but Usagi had softened.

"Well, okay then," she said, her voice like honey. "Is there anything I can do for you? I'd be happy to help."

Motoki fixed his brown eyes on her sparkling blue ones. "I appreciate the offer, but it's okay, really. I'll be fine."

The silence dragged out for what seemed like an eternity. Motoki and Usagi were still looking at each other, and as Mamoru watched, her cheeks turned ever so slightly pink.

Mamoru knew how immature jealousy was, made especially petty because Motoki was very clearly sick. But he could help the emotion that simmered in his veins, making him want to strangle his friend.

When he spoke, his voice was gruff. "Motoki, I think you should just go home."

"I agree," Usagi said, not looking away from Motoki. "You work so hard. You deserve a break."

"I really shouldn't . . ." Motoki said, conflicted, finally breaking eye contact to glance out the window.

"Look, it's late in the afternoon. There's hardly anyone here now. And if no one has come by now, then they won't be by later tonight," Mamoru argued.

Without warning, Motoki began coughing violently into his elbow. Once the outburst had subsided, he said feebly, "I guess you're right . . ."

"Please?" Usagi asked, her tone so tender and gentle that Mamoru couldn't breathe for a moment, jealousy coming back to choke _him._ And that was all it took for the blond clerk to give in.

"Fine. Just give me a moment." And he slipped into the back room.

After a few minutes, Motoki reappeared in street clothes, said his goodbyes, and left, the bell connected to the arcade's front door chiming merrily.

A few beats of awkward silence stretched out between Usagi and Mamoru, and he thought desperately for something clever to say. Then Usagi's sweet voice caught his attention.

"Thanks for backing me up with Motoki," she said sincerely, and Mamoru found it was too hard to look into her eyes.

"Oh, it was nothing," he mumbled.

"No, really," Usagi insisted. "Motoki works way too hard. He deserves a break more than anyone."

A wave of despair crashed over Mamoru. "I suppose so." And once again, he cursed himself for not being kinder to Usagi when he had the chance. Now it was too late, and she would never love him.

Usagi frowned, studying him. "Are you sure you're okay Mamoru? You're quieter than usual. Maybe you caught something from Motoki?"

Mamoru opened his mouth to disagree, but then he felt her press a small hand to his forehead. He stopped breathing, overwhelmed with a riot of sensation and emotion. He thought his heart would beat out of his chest, his breathing ragged.

Meeting Usagi's eyes, he saw that she was blushing. "You don't seem too hot," she quavered, just as nervous as he was.

"I guess I'm lucky," he whispered, voice rough like sandpaper. But he wasn't talking about his health.

"Yeah," Usagi responded, looking panicked. She hopped off her stool, withdrawing her hand as if his skin had burned hers."Um — bye Mamoru!" she called, already rushing to leave the arcade.

Mamoru watched the door slam behind her, the bell ringing cheerfully, and Usagi running down the sidewalk in that ditzy way of hers.

A smile broke his face into two ecstatic pieces. She had touched him. She had been nervous. And she had called him "Mamoru."

Maybe it wasn't too late after all.


	22. Wistful Dreaming

Sailor Moon touched his face, the planes of which were made dramatic by the light of the moon. "Who are you?" she whispered, though she knew he wouldn't answer. He never did.

Tuxedo Mask leaned into her palm, and the sweet aroma of roses wafted through the cool night air. "I can't tell you," he replied, and despite her low expectations, her stomach sank.

He caught her dipping chin, the fabric of his gloves soft against her skin. Sailor Moon glimpsed a pair of cobalt blue eyes, and for some reason she could not name, her heart leapt. "You didn't let me finish," he murmured, a hint of teasing in his tone. "I can't tell you who I am, but I can show you."

Her breath caught in excitement as Tuxedo Mask removed his top hat with one elegant, fluid motion. "Would you like to do the honors?" he asked. His smile sent tingles up her spine. He didn't seem to expect an answer, which was good. She didn't think she had enough air to speak.

His mask was soft and smooth, almost silky. As far as she could tell, there was no string or ribbon holding it in place, and yet, it gave way to her fingers without resistance. He was so magical. Everything about this night felt parallel to reality. They were heading in the same direction, but tonight . . . tonight. It was a night of mystery and wonder, a night of words that did not need to be spoken to be heard, a night of the delicious taste of anticipation and the despairing knowledge that it couldn't last. Tonight would never touch real life.

But despite all that, and because of it, she pulled the mask away.

And looking at her, tenderly, lovingly, was Mamoru.

She must have dropped the mask in her shock, for when he took her hands, they were both empty. But all thoughts of the scrap of cloth left her mind when he said, "Hello Odango."

The corner of Sailor Moon's mouth hitched up in amusement. She was unsurprised that Mamoru — Tuxedo Mask — had figured it out. It wasn't as though she had a mask to protect her identity with, after all.

Mamoru smiled, a bit shy, and her heart swelled.

"Hello," she whispered, feeling pure, undiluted happiness well up from the deepest parts of her being. "Baka."

Mamoru laughed softly, his warm breath tickling her skin. He leaned in, then paused, as if waiting for her permission. Pulse pounding erratically, Usagi swallowed her gasp as his fingertips grazed her hips, his warmth chasing the cold away and causing goosebumps to spring up on her skin. "Mamoru," she breathed, fisting his jacket in her hands.

"Yes?" an equally soft reply.

"Kiss me."

She felt him smile as her eyes blinked shut, felt the distance close between them, felt the racing staccato beat of her heart. She tasted his breath on her lips —

and she woke up.

* * *

Usagi sat up sharply in bed, breaths sawing through her lungs, her heart galloping. She sat for another second, and the details of her dream came rushing back to her. _Mamoru — Tuxedo Mask —_ Her body quivered with yearning.

Then she shook herself awake, fully awake. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she scolded herself. _Mamoru is Tuxedo Mask? Please. You're getting yourself excited for nothing. Now, calm down._

Usagi lay back down, shifting uneasily on her mattress. She needed to get that stupid dream out of her head, and fast.

That was not her first dream of a certain blue-eyed man.

It would not be her last.


	23. A Not-So-Peaceful Summer

Usagi squatted patiently behind a bush, delicately balancing a water balloon in her hands as she waited for the baka to walk down the street. It was a blisteringly hot today, and before long, she began to feel her hair stick to her neck. Then her ankles began to ache, and she tried to adjust her position as discretely as possible.

But she forgot her discomfort when she _finally_ spotted the baka, walking down the sidewalk. Anticipation buzzed through her — either that, or her feet were going to sleep. But something was not quite right; Mamoru's usual brisk pace had slowed to a careful shuffling. He scanned the faces of people passing him, his gaze glancing off each one as if . . . as if he was looking for someone.

 _Me?_ Usagi wondered, her heart skipping a beat. But there was no time for daydreaming; the baka was within range. Whooping, Usagi sprang up and flung her balloon at her target. It burst against Mamoru's stomach, soaking his shirt. Usagi giggled with glee at the pure shock on his face. But much too quickly, surprise turned to determination and she squealed, turning to run. Just one problem:

Her feet were still asleep. They felt like blocks of wood, and that made it difficult to escape. Add that to the fact that Usagi was less than graceful even on a good day, and she had a recipe for disaster.

And sure enough, Usagi didn't make it even two steps before she tripped.

Resigned to her fate, Usagi was just hoping she wouldn't need stitches when two strong, wet arms caught her about the waist, halting her fall. The baka — for she recognized his scent — set her on her feet, though his hands hovered by her hips just in case she needed him again.

Mamoru cleared his throat, causing her to look at him. His lips twitched, as though trying to suppress a grin. "Odango Atama, didn't anyone ever tell you it isn't nice to throw things at people?" he asked teasingly.

Usagi took a step back, having regained feeling in her feet, and Mamoru seized her waist again. She stifled a triumphant smile. "I'm afraid not, baka. Too bad for you."

"Ha." But Usagi was distracted by the way his wet shirt clung to his muscular frame. So maybe it was to be expected that she got a little sidetracked.

"Were you looking for me?" she asked bluntly. Mamoru's face instantly lost it's expression of wry amusement, becoming guarded and just a little bit shy. He blushed, his normally pale cheeks now tinted pink.

"What — why —?" he stammered.

"I saw you," she said, cutting him off.

Mamoru nodded slowly, his blush receding as he said, "Yes, I was looking for you. There was something I wanted to show you."

Usagi's curiosity was instantly piqued. "What?" she demanded.

Mamoru released her hesitantly, as if unsure whether she'd try to run off again. But there was no chance of that happening now.

Usagi took a step closer as Mamoru dug around in his book bag, searching for the mystery object. While she waited, she studied the way his dark hair flopped over his forehead, the way a smile once again tugged at his lips, the way the muscles in his tanned forearms flexed as he shifted heavy books. "Ah-ha," he murmured, his hands closing around something, blocking it from her sight. He met her gaze, and the way his blue eyes sparkled made her heart leap.

It seemed as though an eternity had passed before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice seemed deeper than normal. "Are you ready?"

Usagi had just nodded when she was doused with ice-cold water, making her gasp. The object that had formerly been concealed in Mamoru's hand was a water bottle, which was now situated over her head.

"BAKA!"

But she couldn't help but join Mamoru in laughter.


	24. Questions Without Answers

"Find the crystal," the princess whispered, her sky blue eyes meeting his. He could see the grief in them, as though she had lost someone precious, and he felt empathy forging a connection between them. He too knew what it meant to lose someone, and even though he couldn't remember his parents, at times a strange loss swept over him, sorrow for what could have been.

She began to fade, and though Mamoru tried to reach her, his efforts were in vain.

* * *

The next afternoon, Usagi was not at the arcade. In fact, Mamoru had not seen her all day, and was beginning to worry. After nodding goodbye to Motoki, Mamoru set off to find her.

It turned out Usagi wasn't at the bakery, ogling the pastries. Nor was she at the Osa-P Jewelry Store, or serving in after-school detention. And then, at last, he found her at the park.

He knew in an instant that something was wrong; she sat quietly on the bridge that spanned the pond, head bowed, ignoring the grime that was surely dirtying her formal black dress. Since when did Usagi wear black? Or anything formal, for that matter?

She didn't look up as he approached her. "Usagi?" he asked softly, trying to rein in his panic.

Usagi finally looked up at him, not seeming at all surprised. Just defeated. "What do you want?"

"Are you okay?"

She didn't answer, instead turning back to look at the water. When he noticed the tears slipping down her pale cheeks, Mamoru felt his heart break. Wordlessly, he fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. She climbed into his lap without hesitation and buried her face in his neck. He could feel her tears running down his skin.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there before Usagi spoke, mumbling into his neck. "Today was my grandma's funeral."

Mamoru tightened his grip. Sometimes, actions were more powerful than words.

For some reason, his mind flashed to the princess. In many ways, she resembled Usagi. The same sorrow, the same golden hair and fair complexion. But he was being ridiculous. Usagi couldn't be her.

Couldn't she?

Perhaps . . .

But that was a question for another day.


	25. Reverse Course

"Let me get this straight," Motoki said incredulously, staring at Mamoru. "You want to go back to the arcade _even though_ my shift ended not —" he checked his watch "— five minutes ago?"

"Yeah," Mamoru said sheepishly, wishing he'd found a different way to frame his suggestion.

"Why?" Motoki demanded. He felt he had a right to know. He worked a lot, and he didn't really want to spend more time than was necessary at that arcade.

"No reason," Mamoru said quickly. He didn't need Motoki to know the depth of his obsession with Usagi Tsukino. But from the look of the smile on his friend's face, it was too late for that.

"It wouldn't have to do with Usagi-chan, would it?" he asked mischievously.

"No," Mamoru said firmly, but his voice shook, betraying him.

Motoki looked at him for a long moment, a hint of a grin still lingering on his face, clearly thinking something over. It _was_ true he spent a lot of time at the arcade . . . but Mamoru spent just as much time there, keeping him company. Well,  
and provoking Usagi-chan, but he knew Mamoru cared for her. Motoki wanted him to be happy. He deserved it.

"C'mon then," he said cheerfully, mind made up. He turned abruptly, heading back the way they'd come. "Let's go."


	26. Comfort

Motoki had organized a campfire hangout and invited Mamoru, Usagi, Ami, Mako, Rei, and Mina. It was initially the prospect of spending more time with Usagi that had prompted Mamoru to accept Motoki's invitation, but he had not anticipated the nerves that now gripped him.

When the girls arrived, laughing and rambunctious, Mamoru gulped. It was _hard_ seeing Usagi glowing and happy. Nothing could diminish her good mood, not even the sight of him. Mamoru couldn't help but feel ignored and lonely. Arguing was better than this, but Motoki had made him promise not to aggravate her.

So rather quickly, Mamoru slid into a bad mood, though no one seemed to notice. When the fire crackled to life and Usagi laughed in delight, he wanted to reach over and take her hand. When she ate a half-melted marshmallow and smeared sticky sweetness all over her chin, he wanted to wipe it away with gentle fingers. When darkness fell and she began to yawn, he wanted to cradle her in his arms.

But he was forced to sit still throughout all of that. When Rei stood up to use the restroom, Mako said, "Let's tell scary stories." At this everyone, except for Mamoru, and Rei, who'd already left, perked up. Usagi clapped her hands in excitement.

"I'll start," Ami said serenely, the flickering firelight shadowing the contours of her face. "Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy who were best friends. Over time, the girl fell in love with her friend. But she was afraid to tell him the truth, lest he leave her. So she decided to keep it a secret until the time was right."

Usagi was leaning closer to Ami, enraptured. Mamoru, however, wasn't feeling too good. This story was hitting a little too close to home.

"Years passed and the girl kept waiting for a sign that the boy was returning her affections. Until one day when she found out that her best friend was in love with someone else. She had waited too long, and now she had missed her chance. Her heart broken, she ran away to the forest, her only refuge.

"She was crying in sorrow when a little witch approached her. The witch had lived in the forest for many, many years, and her power had become weaker as time passed. She needed something to rejuvenate her, something the girl possessed and no longer had a need for." Ami paused for dramatic affect. "The girl's broken heart."

Usagi gasped, and at this point even Mamoru wanted to hear more.

"The girl, desperate to escape her pain and grief, accepted the witch's offer. But she should not have trusted the witch. For while it was true her heart restored the witch's power, the loss of her heart turned the girl into a spirit. You see, what makes us human is our heart, our capacity for emotion. Without that, we are only an echo of what we used to be. And so that is what the girl became: an echo of her former self."

Behind them, Mamoru thought he heard a twig snap, but when he looked, he only saw tall, solemn trees, standing guard. No one else seemed to have noticed anything unusual, so he shook his uneasiness off and refocused on Ami's story.

"Her pain did not disappear, instead turning to regret. It wasn't long before regret turned to anger, and anger turned into the desire for revenge. The witch abandoned her in the forest, which the spirit could not leave. They say that she still haunts the forest, searching for a heart to replace her own, thereby condemning another soul to haunt the forest . . . for all eternity."

Something cold touched the back of Mamoru's neck, leaving behind ice that slipped down his spine. Usagi shrieked, seeking protection from whoever was closest, which just so happened to be Mamoru. She jumped into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into his coat.

His pulse rocketed and for a few moments, he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know what to do with his arms either, until comprehension hit him like a wall and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around a still quivering Usagi, sucking in a gasp of air. His heart pounded erratically, sending a flood of warmth to his cheeks.

Mamoru looked up only to see Rei step out of the shadows, holding up wet and dripping hands. Everyone save Usagi and Mamoru, who was still trying to get his heart rate under control, burst out laughing. Rei grinned mischievously. "Got anything you'd like to confess, Usagi?"

Usagi sat up, and realization dawned on her. Blushing furiously, she clambered down from Mamoru's lap and shook her head violently, prompting another round of laughter. Mamoru ducked his head, hoping to hide both his blush and disappointment.

Needless to say, he failed on both counts.


	27. Catch Me If You Can

Motoki was wiping down the counter when he heard Mamoru mumble, "I need to clear my head."

The clerk nodded in acknowledgement. Apparently this was satisfactory to Mamoru, as he slid off his stool and exited the arcade, presumably to get some fresh air.

Motoki was just finishing with his task when a flurry of giggles caught his attention. Looking up suspiciously, his eyes fell upon Usagi, whispering to Mina and eyeing Mamoru's deserted textbook. Before he could even open his mouth, Usagi was wrapping her arms around the heavy book and tumbling clumsily off her stool. Mina laughed as she watched her friend run past rows of games, heading to the back of the building.

Motoki was just starting to grin when Mamoru came in. Alerted by Mina's laughter, Motoki's smile, and the absence of Usagi, Mamoru's eyes fell on the empty stretch of counter which his textbook had previously occupied and put two and two together.

"ODANGO!" he yelled, starting to chase after Usagi. As he tore around a corner, he hit his knee on the corner of a game and howled in pain. The sound of Usagi, giggling madly, filled the air.

Motoki cracked up, and by now, Mina was laughing so hard she was gasping for air. A few minutes passed, the sounds of pursuit faded, and silence fell upon the arcade.

Mina and Motoki shared a quizzical look, then Mina asked, "You wanna go look for them?"

"Yes," Motoki said firmly, patting the pockets of his apron to make sure he had his keys. They searched methodically through each row and aisle, in every nook and cranny. They reached the back of the arcade, and Motoki wondered if Mamoru and Usagi had left. There was no way the both of them could be this quiet. They came upon the storage room, the last place to look.

Raising a finger to her lips in a signal to keep quiet, Mina gently moved the paper taped to the door aside, revealing the small window set in the wood.

Motoki's jaw dropped at the sight that met his eyes.

Usagi and Mamoru, kissing against the wall. The errant textbook lay abandoned on the floor.

Smiling widely, Mina took Motoki's sleeve in her fingers and dragged him back to the counter. Perching once more on her stool, she said happily, "Took them long enough."

"Agreed," Motoki grinned, his shock fading. "Let's enjoy the peace and quiet while we still can."

For knowing Usagi and Mamoru, it wouldn't last long.


	28. Furious

Oh goodness. He'd really made her mad this time.

"I can't even —" Usagi spluttered, stomping her foot, face red with frustration. Her blond hair whipped through the air as she gestured with her hands, balled into tiny fists. He knew from experience, though, that she packed quite a punch. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

Mamoru leaned closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing quickened at his proximity. "That's not the problem here," he said smugly. "We all know you can't leave me alone. I know I'm unfairly attractive, but do try to focus. Maybe if you did, your test scores would go up."

Usagi shrieked with rage. Mamoru was enjoying himself immensely. Not for the first time, he wondered if he had a problem. Was it concerning that he loved upsetting Usagi so much?

 _Maybe_ , he thought as he watched her march away. But oh was she beautiful when she was angry.


	29. Dreaming of You

Usagi was feeling weary. That fight as Sailor Moon, saving Princess D from the Dark Kingdom, had really wiped her out. Her mind fluttered form thought to thought. Nothing really made sense anymore.

 _Juice_ , she thought weakly. That was sure to perk her up. Her skirts were just stirring the hem of the tablecloth adorning the refreshments table when she caught the familiar scent of roses, wind, and coffee. As peculiar as the combination was, it was engraved into her senses, triggering that delicious rush of warmth and butterflies in her stomach. _Tuxedo Mask . . ._

She spun on her heel, but she moved much too fast and the world tilted, slanting sharply before righting itself. She reached out for Tuxedo Mask, but she didn't have to worry. Seeing her stumble, he looped an arm around her waist and scooped up her knees with the other, rescuing her from the dangers unveiled by her exhausted eyes. He was a perfect gentleman, holding her no closer than necessary, but Usagi was having none of it. She was taking full advantage of the haziness, the way reality was distorted, taking on a dream-like quality. She clenched his lapel in her fist, no doubt wrinkling the fine fabric, but she was beyond caring. Pressing her face into his coat, she inhaled his scent, she inhaled his warmth.

Mamoru . . . no, Tuxedo Mask cradled her closer, and Usagi let her eyes close with a heavy finality. Sleep settled on her, heavy and warm, and she was only dimly aware of Tuxedo Mask moving through the room. She felt cool air caress her skin, saw the moonlight on the inside of her eyelids, but when he kissed her, all of those details vanished. The only thing that existed was him and her, the only thing that mattered was the way he tasted, like starlight, and the way he kissed her, like she was his whole world . . . no, it was the other way around . . . he tasted like starlight and secrets, long forgotten . . . Mamoru, is that you? It looks like you . . .

Slumber gathered the young woman in his arms, carrying her to that place between fantasy and reality that exists solely in sleep. The young man watched her go, gazing at her still, peaceful face, lit by the moon. Neither of them had quite realized that they were not strangers, that this had not been their first kiss in the moonlight. The answers to all their questions — _Who are you? Who am I?_ — had already been revealed, in the space that existed between fantasy and reality. All that remained was for them to do was awaken.


	30. Camera Shy

Usagi swung her feet, her shoes rasping over the peanut shells covering the concrete. She was at a baseball game with her friends, and though she honestly had no idea who was winning, she was having a great time. The sun was shining, warming her skin, and she watched with fascination as the athletes on the field below them ran across the green, green grass.

The only dark spot in her day was Mamoru, who Motoki had practically had to drag along. "It's not healthy to sit in your apartment all day," the blonde had argued. "Come out and get some sun."

Oddly enough, the fact that Mamoru had no social life made Usagi sad. He had to be so lonely, and that knowledge stole any good feelings that gloating would have given her.

Now he sat beside her, sulking. She had done a good job of ignoring him so far, only ever turning to her right to talk to Mina-chan. Like her, Mina knew nothing about baseball, but she had been coming up with ways to entertain herself. No sooner than she'd thought this Mina squealed in delight, drawing Usagi's attention to her. She pointed at the big screen, and Usagi, following the direction of finger, read the words "Kiss Cam" in bold letters, surrounded by cartoon hearts. As she watched, footage of a middle-aged couple, decked out in sports gear, replaced the words. She saw the surprise on their faces as they saw themselves on the big screen, then the understanding, and, laughing, they kissed. Then the camera moved onto another couple in the stands.

Mina looked at Usagi, giggling in glee, and she suddenly saw the thoughts running through her friend's head. "Mina!" she half-gasped, half-scolded, though her heart pounded at the thought of kissing -

Beside her, Mamoru gasped, and her eyes flew to the big screen, only to see her own dumb-founded face staring back at her. Her friends were laughing, talking, whistling, even, but she could barely hear them over the pounding of blood in her ears as she turned towards Mamoru. His eyes were wide and shocked, his dark hair tousled from the wind, and she had never wanted him more than in this moment.

 _Damn it all_ , she thought fiercely, as she seized his collar in her fists and kissed him. As simple as that. As though she hadn't been fantasizing about this moment for weeks. Months, even.

And it was so much better than even her best fantasies.

Because he kissed her back, and she felt hot and cold and timid and bold all at once. She was drowning in his scent, in his taste, and even as she lost herself in him, she found herself too. She was kissing Chiba Mamoru, _Chiba Mamoru_. The man she was madly in love with was kissing her, was holding her waist with strong hands, pulling her closer.

Then someone cleared their throat, and she remembered, forcefully, her surroundings. She and Mamoru were not alone, in fact they were in public, their most intimate moment being broadcast to the thousands of people in the stadium. Blushing, she broke away with a gasp, looking first at Mamoru, at his swollen lips and messy hair, and then at Mina, holding her stomach as she laughed, and at Motoki, the throat-clearer, looking at her with an expression that said, _Are you about done?_

The answer was no, but Usagi could stop for now. For now. Crazy, panicked laughter bubbled up in her throat, as she found that everyone sitting around them was staring at her. No, her and Mamoru. Mamoru, who she had just kissed.

A warm hand clamped around hers and she looked over to see Mamoru holding it, an oddly calm expression on his face despite his messy appearance. He didn't look annoyed. In fact, he looked . . . happy. Really happy. She ignored the tittering of Ami, Rei, Mako, and Mina, ignored the smirk on Motoki's face, and instead just looked at Mamoru. He smiled at her, a small smile, but a real one none the less, and in that moment, she felt like she was on top of the world. On top of the world with Mamoru.


End file.
